


If You Wanted To

by throughtosunrise



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 05:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14610237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughtosunrise/pseuds/throughtosunrise
Summary: Beau gets herself injured. Yasha's the only one around. Good old-fashioned hurt/comfort ensues, complete with Feelings and a couple of rare flashes of vulnerability.And, of course, Yasha carrying Beau because of course.





	If You Wanted To

**Author's Note:**

> walkthegale gave me the prompt "I’m going to have to carry you, is that all right?"
> 
> So this happened.

“I’m going to have to carry you, is that all right?”

Yasha gets the feeling, as soon as she says it, that Beau is going to put up an argument. That doesn’t require any particular people skill to guess at, because that’s just what Beau  _does_ , especially when she’s in pain and still riled up from a fight.

As expected, Beau snorts. “What? Pssht, no, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Yasha is… actually a little bit disappointed that Beau didn’t immediately agree to the offer, to be honest. She sighs, and looks down at the nasty gash that runs from just above Beau’s right ankle to halfway up her thigh. “Beau.”

“That’s my name.” And then she’s trying to use her staff to lever herself to her feet before Yasha can even object, because Beau is scary fast that way sometimes. “Ow,  _fuck_!”

Without thinking about it Yasha leaps forward to catch her and ease her back down into an awkward half-sprawl on the ground. “I told you,” she says, and gingerly disengages herself from Beau, which is made a little bit more difficult by how Beau’s robes are tangled up around her forearms.

It is a very distracting sensation.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Beau sighs, reaches back to untie her belt, and starts to wrap it around her thigh. “I kinda can’t feel my… how bad is it?”

“Nothing’s broken, at least. So… that’s good?”

Beau looks up at her and tries to force a smile through a grimace of pain. The effect is somewhat blunted by the fact that she’s splayed out on the ground covered in dirt and blood, her arms shaking slightly from the effort of keeping her belt tight around her leg just above the cut. It wouldn’t fool anyone in the least, but Yasha finds it oddly endearing; Beau isn’t much for smiling even on a good day, at least not outside of the kind of exhilarated grin that crosses her face when she gets caught up in the energy of a fight. But here she is making a genuine effort, and it’s for Yasha’s sake.

“Here,” Yasha says, and crouches down, her hands close enough to brush against Beau’s as she takes hold of the belt to apply more pressure with the makeshift tourniquet. “Let me.”

“Thanks,” says Beau, though she hasn’t relinquished her own grip on the belt. “So, uh, that kind of sucked, huh?”

Yasha’s busy inspecting Beau’s injured leg — and that’s good, the gash is bleeding profusely but not deep enough to reach bone — but she huffs a soft, shaky laugh. “Just a little.”

“Cave fishers are assholes, man. I just wanted to fuckin’ find something to bring back for dinner, but no.” Beau glances past her to the pale, chitinous mass of the dead crab-like creature that still has her blood all over its pincers, but also a giant sword gash all the way through its carapace from where Yasha had made it pay for hurting Beau.

(She always enjoyed winning a fight, but that had been… particularly satisfying.)

Still preoccupied with looking over Beau’s leg, Yasha makes a vague noise of assent. “How are you feeling?”

“Eh. I’ll live,” Beau says in a nonchalant drawl, though her voice cracks a little bit. Yasha may not be able to read people very well, but this kind of post-fight bravado is something she understands, which is why she’s checking Beau over for any other injuries in need of immediate attention and is glad to find nothing more major than some superficial cuts and a few bruises that are going to be spectacular.

“Good. Stay that way.” She thinks she’s got the tourniquet tied off well enough by now, so she releases it and feels the tingle of her own blood rushing back into her fingertips. Speaking of blood, Beau isn’t in any danger of bleeding out now, but one jarring misstep could change that: they’re out of healing potions, and Jester is back at camp with the others.

“Working on it,” Beau answers, and she must have lost more blood than either of them realized, because her normally belligerent voice is soft, almost dreamy, and she’s watching Yasha with a dopey smile on her face.

Yasha — after a brief but intense internal debate — gives her half of a shaky smile. “Let me, um. Your leg, I might be able to —” Words are  _hard_ , so instead she just rests both hands on Beau’s leg and focuses on channeling the meager burst of healing energy she can sometimes muster. It sends a warm pulse through her hands before it passes into Beau’s body, and it’s not enough to come anywhere near to fully closing up the wound but she’s less worried about accidentally aggravating it on the way back to camp, at least.

“Huh.” Now that the shock and adrenaline have worn off Beau’s eyes have drifted mostly shut, but she’s still smiling that dopey smile.

“What?”

“‘f I’d known this was all it took to get your hands on me…”

“I would rather you didn’t get yourself hurt just to — oh.” Yasha is never really sure what to do when Beau says things like this, so she immediately ducks her head so she can hide her blush behind her hair. (She likes it when Beau says things like this. It’s just a thousand times harder to get past her social discomfort when she’s flustered on top of that.) “Let’s get back to camp so Jester can take a look at you.”

Beau seems to consider this for a moment and finally sighs, but she’s smiling as she mumbles, “Yeah, okay, fine.”

Carefully, she gathers Beau up into her arms so that Beau is sitting most of the way up with her head against Yasha’s shoulder, and gets to her feet. “Maybe you should hold on to me so you don’t, I mean… Is this — are you comfortable enough?”

Beau laughs and puts her arms around Yasha’s neck, and it would be a lie to say that Yasha isn’t enjoying this. “You kidding me? This is the luxury ride. How much is this one gonna cost me?”

And Yasha can’t believe she’s about to say this, but — “We can… work it out later.”

“Aww, hey. My hero.” Beau’s half asleep, but damn if she isn’t trying to mock-swoon anyway.

Yasha laughs a little bit, sadly. “I’m nobody’s hero, Beau.”

And now Beau has cracked one eye open to look at her, as serious and unguarded as Yasha has ever seen her. “You could be, if you wanted to. I mean, I’d let you, y’know?”

Yasha just stops in her tracks for a moment, pleased and stunned and dumbfounded by that statement. It scares her a little bit, too, that it elicits all those feelings in her, but Caleb’s avowed fondness for calculated risks must be rubbing off on her; the fear isn’t enough to make her want to bolt this time.

“Then maybe… maybe I would consider it,” she says.

Beau, who always wants to know more, always presses for details, seems to accept this as enough of an answer and nods. “Cool,” she answers, and closes her eyes again.

Yasha misses the sound of Beau’s voice for the rest of the trip back to camp, but she can hardly begrudge the girl some much-needed sleep. Besides, Beau is a solid and warm weight in her arms, a few strands of her hair tickling the side of Yasha’s neck, and at one point she makes an incoherent mumbling noise and snuggles into Yasha a little bit more. It’s not something anyone would ever be likely to see from Beau while she’s awake, and it’s adorable.

It feels a bit like being entrusted with something rare and valuable and that, too, is terrifying, but rare and valuable things are worth protecting, aren’t they? That’s something she understands.

Okay, she decides, taking a deep breath. Okay. Put in those terms, maybe she can do this after all.


End file.
